Assimilation
by QuiverFullofWords
Summary: After being blackmailed into taking a position in the Alliance's new assimilation program, Aileen is sent to Kalimdor as an ambassador for the Alliance with a fellow hunter as her guide. Together they travel the length of Kalimdor, seeking to diminish any prejudices between the people of the Eastern Kingdoms and the ancient elves who are their newest allies. (Full summary inside.)
1. Prologue

After being blackmailed into taking a position in the Alliance's new assimilation program, Aileen is sent to Kalimdor as an ambassador for the Alliance with a fellow hunter as her guide. Together they travel the length of Kalimdor, seeking to diminish any prejudices between the people of the Eastern Kingdoms and the ancient elves who are their newest allies. However, all is not so simple. Along the way they face challenges of all kinds, from culture clash to factional warfare. Yet despite all this, and the circumstances that forced her here, Aileen soon finds that she has more in common with the Night Elves than she ever did with humans. Especially as Othailos begins to guide not only her way, but also her heart.

Takes place during early vanilla WoW.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters.

Prologue

Aileen Hunter, whose true last name had been forgotten since her days at the orphanage in Duskwood, stood in her cloud of awkwardness before her new, gargantuan companion, her silver haired guide. She was among the first few to be sent into the great Alliance's assimilation program, designed for the flowing of cultures, the blending of peoples, the easing of tensions throughout both the domestic and political worlds. They'd chosen terribly, she thought to herself yet again as she stared up into the face of Othailos Evenmist. She'd spent the last eleven years almost entirely alone in the wilds of Duskwood. She was as socially awkward as a feral dog who'd been suddenly adopted. She was _hardly_ diplomat material.

But she fit all the other requirements for the last position to be filled on the list of those needed in Kalimdor to smooth things over between the Night Elves and their Eastern Kingdoms counterparts.

Three days ago a bedraggled courier had appeared on her doorstep, shambling out of the misty forests of Duskwood like one of the ghouls. He was young, with a wild mop of curly red hair and a million freckles that told her he spent most of his days in the sun and was most certainly not a native of the cursed forest she called home. She invited him in, out of the moldy gloom of the forests, and sat him down in a chair by the fire with a bowl of berries and a spoon as she read over the letter.

The letter had been nothing but a request by the members of the Night Watch to appear in Duskwood's rickety little capital in two days. She'd suspected that they might offer her work as they'd done in the past, request that she take care of a pack of particularly rabid wolves or clear out the undead that had trickled too close to the dim lights of Darkshire. Never had she suspected to be sent off to Stormwind for some mysterious, classified meeting scheduled to take place in only a few hours time. She'd also never ridden on anything other than a horse before, so a perilous gryphon ride to the Alliance capital city was equally unexpected and just as unsettling. At least the ride gave her eyes time to adjust to the brightness of the sun.

There was a set of armor-clad guards waiting for her when she landed at midday and for a moment, as they took her by the arm and hauled through the express security checklane to enter the city, she wondered if she was going to be locked up. By the time they reached Stormwind Keep, she was thoroughly shaken up and nowhere near ready for a meeting of any sort. Yet there was no time to wait, apparently, because just as she'd taken in the stone halls of the keep, she was lead into a small room.

The door was shut and locked and the two guards who had accompanied her took their places on either side of it. There was a small table, more of a desk really, in the center of the room and three chairs, two of which were occupied. She seated herself in the empty one, beginning to feel more and more like she was suspected of committing some terrible crime.

The two people, a middle-aged man and woman, looked up at her with faint smiles that neglected to put her at ease in any way. She was hardly accustomed to being around people, and most certainly not people she hadn't met at least once before, and this day had proven to be glaringly stressful already. As the pair uttered their "hellos" and "welcomes" she resisted the urge to snap at them to get on with it, her nerves were already beyond fried and it was only the midafternoon.

What they had to say in the following hour only made everything worse.

After brief introductions- their names were already forgotten- they slipped a packet of papers across the table to her. "Take your time," the woman had said. Aileen didn't, the very first page sent anger and fear flying through her. There was a small introductory paragraph on the Alliance's aspirations for a brighter future that she skipped over after the first sentence. Then came the lengthy paragraph emphasising her importance in their mission and her " _duty to the Alliance"_ \- which she scoffed at and skimmed over the details, foregoing the frivolous wording. Thankfully, and unfortunately, the third paragraph finally explained what the aforementioned mission actually was. An assimilation program… In Kalimdor?!

They wanted her to join an assimilation program with the intention of "infiltrating Night Elven society through connecting with the citizens, focusing on rural areas." She'd just barely finished that sentence and already she was passing the papers back to them.

"You're out of your mind. I am the worst choice for this." She said as they took the papers and returned them to their folder.

To her surprise, rather than reacting with anger, the woman actually laughed. "Now hang on," She said, folding her hands on the table as she relaxed, "If you had bothered to finish reading the packet, you would have learned that you actually fit all of the required fields and more. In fact, because of the fact that you'd be specializing in rural towns and outposts, you're a near-perfect fit. Socially a bit rough around the edges, sure, but nothing a few days with some company can't fix."

Aileen bristled at the mention of company. She didn't want company, she wanted the quiet of her cabin in the forest, the simplicity of the life she already had. Who was this woman to assume that she could adjust so easily? These people had only just met her…

"A near-perfect fit?" She quoted, "How could you possible know that? I've spent less than half an hour in your company." She tried to keep her tone steady, but there was only so much she could take in a day. Since childhood she'd been naturally shy, something that only contributed to the isolating conditions she'd already been living in as an orphan. She had no family, without friends she'd had no one. She _still_ had no one...

The man spoke then, interrupting her thoughts. "It's not so much a matter of personality. Your qualifications come in the form of experience and physical advantages."

Beside him, the woman nodded. "You've spent your whole life in a place that is fairly similar to the climate where you'd be working in Kalimdor, as similar as you can get in the Eastern Kingdoms, that is. You're accustomed to living a life of isolation in a dark forest- a life that many Night Elves live. Your body and mind will be able to handle that type of environment and lifestyle, an advantage over most of our other ambassadors. In addition to this, you are a huntress of exemplary skill- even your last name testifies to that. This gives you the ability to survive, and perhaps even thrive, under harsh conditions during travel. Like I said, you're a near-perfect fit."

"And if you're truly worried that your personality or lack of social skill are an issue, I'd actually say it's yet another _advantage_." Aileen was beginning to grow sickened by that word. "You already have so much in common with their way of life and your coldness only adds to it. From what I've heard, Night Elves are a reserved bunch, aloof and distanced. You should find it perfect."

Coldness. They thought her cold. As if they had any right to do so, whether she was or not. She shook her head, there was no sense in letting this go any further. She'd been here long enough and they needed to know that she had no intentions of pursuing this request. She would decline the offer once more and go home, retreat back into her little hole in the woods and continue on with what she'd been busy with for the past couple of weeks- stocking up for winter.

"I'm sorry but this just isn't a good fit. Even if I was the ambassador type, I cannot just leave. I have a life. I have things to do, Winter to prepare for, repairs to make on my house-"

"-You mean on the house that was previously abandoned and that never belonged to you in the first place. The little cottage northwest of Darkshire that, even if it was under your name, you've never paid property taxes on, the house that the governing forces in Stormwind or even Darkshire could seize from you at any time they see fit?" The woman was spoke again, hands still folded, faint smile still on her lips. Aileen was frozen.

"I- But no one had lived there for years. I assumed that it was nobody's, empty…And taxes… My goodness, I was fifteen when I found the place, I'd never even thought of taxes!" Fury and fear turned her cheeks pink and the woman's eyes narrowed as Aileen's widened.

"All the same," The woman continued, "We've already sent a warrant of seizure to Darkshire by gryphon. They're to send a band of Night Watch to seize your home tomorrow morning unless we reach an arrangement by sundown today."

She and her partner let the words sink in as Aileen sat and stared down at her clenched fists. How could this be happening?

"You may want to reconsider your outlook on our offer for the position. You've already turned it down, but rest assured that it still stands." The veiled threat in the woman's voice was darker than any cold night in Duskwood despite that insistent, now almost arrogant, little smile on her face.

The man retrieved the packet from the folder and slowly slid it across the table to her once more just as one of the candles on the desk went out. With eyes well adjusted to darkness, Aileen watched the woman reach over and relight it with only her fingertips. A mage. At this revelation, it made the wretched woman seem even more formidable.

"Why?" Aileen asked, "Why have you singled me out? I lived there for eleven years and never once did anyone threaten me like this. Eleven years without a single complaint. Why now? Why go to such lengths to fill one position?"

The woman met her gaze as light filled the room and for a split second the smile was gone. "The Alliance needs to expand if it's going to survive in the world we live in. In order to expand we must forge relationships with our allies and to do that we need people. There are few people willing, let alone capable, of heading off into foreign lands and contested territories to spend a year with another race, but it must be done. We're doing what we must to protect our people and our home, just as you are. Sometimes that means sacrifices."

Aileen nodded ever so slightly, hating her just a little less in that moment. She was just doing her job, what she had to, she reminded herself. Still she found it impossible to truly accept everything that was happening. Afterwards, she sat there staring down at the papers in her hand and the blue lion's head stamped into the upper right corner, willing it to catch fire and burn up in her fingers.

"All the details are in the packet," The man finally broke the silence. "I suggest you read the whole thing thoroughly."

"You'll have plenty of time to do so on your way to Theramore. You'll be traveling by boat from Menethil Harbor. Your guide is opposed to traveling by portal. As is the case with many Night Elves, he believes arcane magics to be treacherous and misfortunate. I will, for the sake of time, be opening a portal to the harbor for you though. That is, if you are not also opposed to magic?"

She shook her head, still too shocked and dismayed to say anything more, and they all stood. The guards unlocked and opened the door and once back in the halls of the keep, Aileen fought the urge to flee, wondering if she could dissolve into the crowded city streets fast enough to escape. As the woman worked to open the portal, the very air itself tearing open, the image of swampland and seashore appearing within the tear, she could only look upon this place in disgust. She was suddenly very eager to leave Stormwind behind.

Finally the portal was set. "The boat to Theramore leaves tomorrow morning. You will find your guide within the Deepwater Tavern. His name is Othailos Evenmist."

As she stared into the portal, Aileen suddenly found her mind flooded with questions. "Wait," She hesitated, shuffling where she stood. "Everything I own is in Duskwood. My clothes and personal belongings, I don't even have documentation for travel- I legally shouldn't be here if not for the official letter and the two guards." She shot them a glance. "And my house, who will watch over it while I'm gone?"

"As we said, everything is in the packet," The woman huffed impatiently, "But if you must know, the Night Watch will be keeping tabs on your house and belongings, your guide has the proper documentation for you with him, and clothing and travel supplies will be distributed to you when you reach Theramore Isle. At least you have your bow with you," She gestured to the weapon secured to the young huntress's back. With all of the panic racing through her mind, Aileen had forgotten it was even there. She reached up and clutched the strap of her quiver as if it were her lifeline, the familiar leather easing her anxiety.

"Now please step through the portal, it won't stay open forever."

Aileen took one last reproachful look around the Stormwind keep and stepped through the already wavering portal.

The sensation was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Her body seemed to fold in on itself, an incredible weight and pressure forming in both her belly and her brain as she was moved through space. Her ears plugged and soon she found that she couldn't open her eyes even if she tried, it was as if someone had glued them shut. After a wobbly moment that seemed to take forever, she felt solid ground beneath her feet and she could at last open her eyes once more. Not that she could yet see. White light blotted her vision and her ears were still plugged for a good thirty seconds more. Finally the pressure diminished and her vision and hearing returned to her.

She found herself, arms clutched to her chest like a frightened child, standing in the middle of the street as rain poured down upon her from overcast skies. She was already soaked and a violent shiver ran through her as she looked around the near empty streets for any sign of the inn where she was to meet her guide. However, to her dismay, there were no signs on any of the buildings where she stood and so she set out down the worn, cobbled road, passing only a couple of guards huddled beneath awnings as she turned the corner.

She contemplated asking them for directions but found herself unwilling, too shy and shaken up to bother with the task. She hated feeling this way, like a child, stuck behind her own irrational fear of the unknown. Today's events had left her vulnerable, had shown her that the invincible isolation that she'd chosen for herself could be swept away like a twig swallowed up by rushing waters. She wanted no part in this, the vulnerability or the task at hand. She wanted nothing to do with this _Othailos_ or the assimilation program or the eleven years worth of unpaid property taxes that were being used to blackmail her into this position.

Her boots were soaked through already, squishing with every step she took. She longed for her water-resistant cloak with the detachable hood that she'd made for days like this. She knew exactly where it hung, on the third peg on the back of the door, and nostalgia stung her so badly that she staggered as she recalled what they had said.

A year. One _entire_ year. She would not see her little house again, the home she'd worked so hard to make, for twelve months. The realisation of such a thing, twelve months in a stranger's company in an even stranger land, left her breathless. For a moment she thought she might faint. There was so much for her to take in… She took refuge under the next awning she saw, shivering violently from cold and apprehension alike.

Suddenly, the door that the awning had been built to shield opened and warm firelight poured out over the gray street as a man wearing a cloak similar to the one she'd just been longing for, emerged and made his way quickly down the wet street. Aileen took a peek inside as the door slowly began to close, spying men and women- though mostly men- sitting around tables, a roaring hearth on the far wall, and two women in green dressed gathering dishes from tables. A familiar tavern song wafted out of the door until it shut, leaving her alone in the empty darkness of the street.

It was then that she looked up and noticed the sign nailed into the wall above her head. It read, in large navy lettering, _Deepwater Tavern_. Aileen sighed with relief, chiding herself for not noticing it before. She reached for the door's handle and stepped inside.

It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, yet again, to the warm light. Once they did, she looked around the tavern and realised that she was looking for something she'd never seen. She had come across only one elf in her life before, a High Elf traveler who had nodded to her as he passed her on the road that headed toward Westfall three years ago. He'd been tall and thin, possessing the pointed ears she'd heard about only in stories, with brown hair so long that it brushed against his hips as he walked and pale skin that had a translucent quality to it that made him look almost ghostly. His eyes were the most startling thing about him, though. As blue as jewels, they seemed to reflect what little light there was in the forest back at her. He had been beautiful and terrifying with his alien features that played upon human traits but were distinctly inhuman at the same time.

She used the traveler as a reference as her eyes scanned the room for her guide. Finally, as one of the green clad women moved away from a table along the wall, she spotted something she'd never seen before. And had it not been for how harshly he stood out against the mostly human crowd, she would never have pegged him as an elf at all- he looked so different from the High Elf. In fact, apart from the pointed ears, long hair, and luminous eyes, he looked like a completely different race in comparison. He looked more like the painting of a savage troll she'd once seen in a book than an elf, in her eyes. He was just missing the tusks.

But that had to be him. There were no other elves in the room at all, High Elf or otherwise, and certainly no one stood out as much as he did. She forced herself to stop dumbly standing there and made her way toward him, studying him more closely with each step.

Even sitting he was taller than the group of drunken men who sat one table over, forced to lean against the wall because the back of his chair offered no support. The chair he sat in looked comically small in comparison to his giant frame, for in addition to his height he was quite broad. Actually, everything around him was disproportionately tiny. She could see as she came closer that his legs could hardly fit under the table and the mug he held looked rather like a teacup in his hands. Had she not been so fascinated, and slightly shocked, she might have laughed.

She'd seen blue skin before on the undead she'd killed, but nothing like this. The color of his skin resembled the perpetual dusk that came with the curse upon her forest home, matching the sky with its silvery undertones. Like gray stone and a clear day mixed together, or perhaps the underbelly of a storm. His hair stood out against it, a bright white that rivaled fresh snow, and even in a ponytail it hung down his chest to his belly, it was so long.

There was one defining similarity between the High Elf and the man before her. His eyes, too, shone, bringing in the warm golds of the hearth and reflecting them back as silver as the moon. As she ventured ever closer, cautiously weaving through the tables and people, he caught her gaze. And now, from only a few feet away, Aileen could see that though he was tall and broad and blue, his face was nothing like that of the snarling troll from the book. Masculine with his defined cheekbones, jaw, and straight nose, but possessing a soft serenity to his expression that made her shoulders relax just a little.

At last she stood before him and found herself unable to speak. He spoke for her, standing as he did so, his height forcing her to actually tilt her head up to look at him. "You must be Aileen Hunter." She nodded and he smiled, offering her his hand, which engulfed hers when she took it. "It is good to meet you. I am Othailos Evenmist, your guide."


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you for your lovely reviews.

Nessy2008: Thank you so much. I hope you like this chapter as well.

SsaraSaavedrafics: Well, I will gladly save your soul with another chapter. I know this one isn't very exciting but here you go nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. _Nothing._

* * *

Chapter One

Dinner hadn't been as awkward as she imagined it would be. She'd been uncomfortable with accepting the meal he paid for, though truly it was paid for by the Alliance itself, as unaccustomed to "charity" as always. Not to mention that having something cooked for and then served to her was an experience she hadn't had since she was a young teen. She'd been taking care of herself for over a decade now. She hunted, grew, and foraged for her own food and cooked every meal she ate herself. Sitting there, a plate of food appearing in front of her so _simply_ , was strange. But what was new? Everything about the entire day had been strange to say the least. She couldn't deny that it had been good meal, though.

She'd underestimated how hungry she truly was despite how her stomach roiled with nervousness. She became so wrapped up in eating that she almost forgot about the towering man who sat across from her. Almost forgot, until he set his mug back down on the table. She glanced at him, then, startled as she realized that her current behaviour might be considered rude.

"Um…" She said after swallowing, "Thank you. For the food." Inwardly she cringed at how forced the words sounded.

He tilted his head at her and she wasn't sure whether or not it was a nod of acceptance or confusion. Evidently, it was the latter. "Not that I wouldn't pay for your meal if I had to, but I haven't spent a penny of my own money on any of this, the food or our room. Did they not tell you that we have been given personal funds for such needs?"

Aileen shook her head, "They gave me this packet of papers that I'm to read. It supposedly contains all the information I need to know about this _assignment._ " She found it difficult to grit out that last word without sounding too bitter. If Othailos noticed her tone, he made no comment on it. She was grateful for that as she glanced down at the papers in her wet lap and she realised that despite still being soaking wet, the papers were as dry as they had been back in Stormwind. She peered down at them curiously. _Enchanted paper…_

"I have yet to read through the entire thing. All of this came upon me at such short notice… I've hardly had a moment to even process what's happening." In a moment of uncharacteristic elegance, she added, "Please forgive me if I seem ignorant."

Othailos nodded at her and raised the cup to his lips in his own surprising gracefulness. For someone so large, his movements were delicate. "Rest assured, it took me a while to grow used to the idea of this arrangement. Before three and a half weeks ago I had been living a nomadic lifestyle for over eight decades. I spend my winters in Feralas and work my way up to Ashenvale each spring, and in summer I travel between Darkshore, Winterspring, and Azshara. I used to make trips to the World Tree on occasion…" He trailed off from there, a momentary flash of sorrow appearing on his face, but it didn't linger. "Where have you spent your days?"

She marveled at his words. _Eight_ _decades._ She knew that elves lived long lives, but it was still surreal to be sitting across from a man who'd spent her life three times over as a nomad, yet who didn't look a day older than she was. She found herself wondering how old he truly was as she answered, realizing that her life must seem so dull in comparison. "I've spent my entire life in Duskwood."

He glanced at her shoulder and she realized that his eyes had locked onto her bow. "Your last name is Hunter, do you come from a family of hunters?"

Aileen could not help but stiffen. She so hated to talk about her life as an orphan. It was embarrassing to feel so ignorant about where she came from, about who she was. "No… I grew up an orphan. My true last name was forgotten and I have never known it. I chose Hunter after I set out on my own as it became my trade. Hunting has kept me alive and so became a part of me."

He smiled at her. "It would seem that you and I already share something in common. I too am a hunter at heart. I fully understand your choice in the name. The hunt is as much a part of you as any name."

Somehow, despite the day's events that brought her here, she was oddly glad to be sitting at this table across from this strange man. The fact that she felt comfortable in a stranger's presence was the sort of breakthrough she didn't know she'd been looking for. A part of her was proud of herself even as the rest of her screamed to run and hide in the shadows as she had always done, to slink back to her little hole in the forest for the rest of her life. Perhaps _all this_ would do her good. Maybe exploration was what she needed. After all, hadn't she spent her free years as an adult exploring the forests that everyone else feared? It was hard to say…

As she finished off her food, she fidgeted uncomfortably in her wet clothes. Othailos, in the observant way of a fellow hunter, took notice and offered to take her to the room. It was a room they would share, a fact that shattered the small amount of confidence she'd gathered at the dinner table. The nervousness returned as he left, shutting the door behind him, so that she could change into one of the outfits they'd provided her with. It was disturbing that the clothes fit so perfectly.

As she changed she thought over the earlier meeting once more, this time with more scrutiny as the earlier shock had worn off for the most part. The clothes were most certainly not the only disturbing thing about this entire ordeal. They knew so much about her despite never having met her before. They knew her background, lifestyle, and personality before she'd even arrived. They knew about the house, they knew she'd been an orphan despite no one even knowing her true last name, they knew she spent every day alone. They knew more about her than the handful of aging women who'd raised her and the other children. And in all seriousness, how in the world did they know her _clothing size?_

They had been watching her, she was convinced of this now, and for long enough to know her habits. They'd had to have done their digging, too, in order to find out about childhood and how she behaved as a person. She supposed, with further thought, that in reality it wouldn't have been a hard task to find that information. All they had to do was do some snooping in Darkshire. It wasn't a large place, hardly even a town in reality. What disturbed her was the fact that they'd been watching her… How, and for how long? It was a blow to her skills as a huntress that she hadn't even suspected anything at all.

Frustrated, Aileen tossed her wet clothes on the floor. The leathers were not enchanted against water as her bow was, and apparently that packet of paper. They would be ruined.

She sat on the bed in the corner of the room in silence for a few minutes. She needed the space to clear her mind. She needed to let everything sink all the way in. She stared at her bow and quiver, hanging on the hook that was meant for a cloak or jacket. At least, even if she couldn't go home, she had her bow. It was her lifeline, the instrument through which she survived. Without it she wouldn't be here. Othailos had been correct, the hunt was as much a part of her as any name. At least he understood.

She took a moment to glance around the room. There were two single beds, thankfully, and washtub in the corner behind a screen, on the wall hung a rather disconcerting portrait of a woman with eyes that seemed to be too big, and at the ends of the beds were piles of belongings. A backpack that she'd discovered was enchanted, a cloak folded on the floor, and beside the cloak a pair of leather boots.

She wondered if she should read through the packet yet but then remembered that her guide was still waiting outside the door. She hurried over to it, hoping he wasn't too exasperated with her yet, and opened the door to find him leaning against the wall in the hallway. His eyes were closed and he made no movements even after she opened the door. For a brief moment she wondered if he was asleep standing up before he opened his eyes and glanced at her.

"Ah, good," He said, stretching as he walked into the room. "I'm glad to see that the clothes fit despite everything."

She looked at him questioningly as he sat down on the bed. What did _that_ mean? Had she made him angry? It had almost sounded like a vague insult. "What do you mean?" She worriedly asked as she sat down on her own bed.

He was untying his boots, still giant even when hunched over. He slipped one off and tossed it beside his pile of things at the end of the bed, and then looked at her. After a moment his eyes widened. "Did they truly not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" There seemed to be many things she had not yet been told. Perhaps this was another thing in the all-knowing packet of papers she had yet to fully read.

He sighed. "I cannot believe them… All this hassle, all this waiting, all these complications, now they send you here without a moment's notice and try to pass you off with only a packet of papers? By _Elune_ these people are incompetent…" He angrily untied the other boot and threw it into the pile. "They were supposed to send another person on this trip, not you. The woman never showed for any of the prerequisite meetings leading up to the assignment so they sent a couple guards to see what was the matter. They found her dead just outside of her home, murdered by some group of thugs called the Defias. I arrived here a week ago, set to leave for Theramore the next day. I was told of the change in circumstances and that they would notify me later of my new charge. I waited three days before they told me that they'd chosen one of their spares from the list. You, Aileen. I had expected them to have briefed you more thoroughly than through a packet of papers. I also expected to see you here a day or two earlier…"

He trailed off, his eyes locked onto the floor in frustration. She felt for him after all that had been sprung upon her that day. So she was not the only one who'd paid the price for this program. They'd all suffered here. Aileen, Othailos, and that unfortunate woman. She suddenly glanced down at her clothes. There was something unnerving about wearing clothes intended for another person who was now dead. She was just glad that at least her guide understood how she felt. They were strangely similar. Both hunters, both living solitary lives, both forced into this frustrating situation. There were definitely worse people she could have found herself stuck with.

Othailos sighed again. "...What a day…" He said, rubbing his eyes. "What a week…"

Aileen inwardly agreed with him. _What a day indeed..._ "I had no knowledge of this at all. I really should finish this packet as soon as I can. I intend to read it on the boat tomorrow. It will keep me busy on the trip to come."

He nodded as he shucked off his shirt and she blushed, inexplicably startled by the sight of another person's bare chest. It had been many years since she'd seen any but her own. "That's a wise choice," He settled into the bed, curling into the blankets and suddenly appearing so much smaller. "I have heard that the trip to Theramore will take a week with good weather. You will definitely want something to do on the boat. I swear I nearly went mad on the voyage from Auberdine… I'm just thankful that this one won't be as long a journey at sea as the previous. It took two and a half weeks to get from there to here." He reached for the candle on his own night stand. "When you intend to sleep, will you please blow out the other candle? Though on Kalimdor I was accustomed to sleeping during the daytime, the light is still difficult to sleep through."

"Of course," She said, though honestly it was a bit odd for her to sleep in complete darkness. Usually she kept the fire going whether it was day or night in Duskwood. It was always so cold that she needed it going unless she planned to be gone for the day. Still, she'd be fine without the candle. It was the unfamiliar place that made her nervous about tonight's rest. She reached for the candle and blew it out, feeling for the blankets in the darkness. "Goodnight." She said into the dark room, finding herself actually relieved by the lack of light.

"Goodnight." Othailos murmured back, his voice thick with weariness.

She pulled the blankets around her and stared into the dark, her mind bombarded by questions. They'd chosen her because they were desperate, because they had no more options. The clothes were just a coincidence then, right? So they hadn't been watching her for _that_ long, had they? But then she remembered that Othailos said they'd chosen her from their list of spares. To be on such a list they had to have been observing her after all. The thought made her infinitely uncomfortable. She tried to shake it off. It was a list of spares, _she_ was just a spare. There was no reason to be so unnerved… Her attempts at rationality were unconvincing even to herself.

Gods, she wanted to go home. Longing for her bed, though far more uncomfortable in comparison to this one, filled her. The familiar lumps in the mattress, the soft furs and skins she'd hunted for and skinned herself. The glow of the dying fire and the warmth of her one room house. The kitchen area, her roughly built chair, the antler and bone knives she'd made glinting in the dim light from where they hung on the wall...

Outside the rain pattered on the roof and though nostalgia plagued her, the day's events coupled with the soft sound of the rain lulled her to sleep before long.


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks once more for the support :)

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Fun fact: Henders is an actual NPC.

* * *

Chapter Two

Morning came and the rain had stopped though the sky was still hidden away behind a sheet of clouds. The ground, too, wore an ethereal shroud of its own. All around them, heavy mist hung in the air. It blanketed the sea that lapped gently at the shore beneath the dock upon which they now stood and closed away the marshlands in the distance.

Mist was something Aileen was familiar with. She both loved and loathed it. In the forests of Duskwood mist meant both good and terrible things for the huntress, particularly in her younger days. When she stalked deer or undead through the underbrush or at the edge of cursed fields and farmsteads, it offered her another level of stealth. She'd sit hidden in her little curtain of fog and wait until her prey wandered into sight, oblivious of her. It both hid her from view and masked her scent with its own, one of mildew and cold mornings like today.

At the same time it was a hindrance. She was as susceptible to an unforeseen death as the creatures she stalked. Just as she used the mists to her advantage, so did other wild beasts of the forest. Wolves, worgen, the more sentient of the undead…

And then there was the chance of getting lost. In the earlier days spent on her own, she got lost more than she liked to admit. One moment she'd be exactly sure of where she was, but then she'd spot a deer. Desperate hunger and the thrill of the hunt would drive her to give chase when her first arrows failed. Before she knew it, the deer would be gone and she'd be completely lost. There had been days when she spent hours upon hours wandering until she found a landmark or a road. Eventually she procured an old, now rather inaccurate, map that she then edited to suit her needs as she hunted.

In these days, after so many years, she needed no map.

Her sigh was one of longing and sadness as she stared out at the surprisingly-fogless sea. It glimmered even in the cold, dim light and the surface was littered with only the smallest of waves. Honestly, she'd expected more from it. Never having seen the ocean before, she had relied on the books she'd read as a child and her imagination to piece together what the sea was like in her mind. Everyone described it as some great, grand, unstoppable force of water and wind. All the books told of waves that towered over men as they smashed against the shore, and a horizon that went on for an eternity.

She, herself, scanned the surrounding horizon. They were in a bay, mountains to the north and coastal wetlands to the south, arching around the horizon, leaving only a small strip of silver where the sea met the sky beyond the curve of the land. Perhaps out there, past the sheltering barrier of the bay, she would finally understand what the sailors in her stories spoke of.

Othailos stood silently beside her, his attentions buried in a leather book, a pen in his right hand. A journal, perhaps. Aileen remembered her own old journal, a ratty little thing that was given to her by the orphan matrons for her birthday. They were given to all the children of the orphanage on their fifth birthday, a ritual of sorts, something to encourage skill in reading and writing. It was the only gift she had ever received and she'd cherished it right until that unfortunate day when it fell apart in her very hands, the pages fluttering to the floor like leaves from a tree. She'd gathered them up and kept them beneath her pillow. Now they rested in a wooden box beneath her bed.

At first there had been a genuine attempt at journal entries, though the writing had been atrocious and was scarcely legible to any adult. She filled one page a day and eventually her writing improved and shifted from being about her thoughts and feelings to stories she'd made up on her own. Stories of adventures and beasts, traveling to distant places she'd only read or heard about. _Stranglethorn, the Arathi Highlands, the fallen kingdom of Lordaeron…_

Those had been the most "exotic" places that her five year old self had heard of. Each one sounded scary and dangerous, so far away and foreign. She allowed herself a bittersweet smile as she realised that she was living out her childhood dreams, except that now they seemed like something of a nightmare.

There was a line of people before them, all waiting to board the boat that would take them to Theramore Isle. It was something of a contradictory mishmash of people. Some were very noticeably mages with their overthetop robes and floating spellbooks and self-writing pens, others were of the official type with tabards about their bodies and an air of business to their expressions. There were civilians, too, people in plain clothes, some with many bags and packs, and even a family that stood in a cluster a few places behind them. Then there were those like them. Adventurers, mercenaries, tradesmen and travelers whose destinations spanned beyond the walls of Theramore Keep.

A part of Aileen shivered with excitement while the other part of her shivered with apprehension. She'd be leaving the Eastern Kingdoms today. This was different than traveling north to Elwynn or Redridge, different than being asked to Stormwind as she had been yesterday, even. She'd be stepping off the continent entirely today, traveling across the sea to a continent little-known to her people. She found herself feeling especially glad to have Othailos alongside her in that regard. He had spent nearly a century as a nomad, he would know those lands.

Kalimdor truly was a place unknown in her eyes. She'd heard very little of it in her lifetime. Any knowledge she had of the place was found in books or through word of mouth. When the Third War ended not so long ago there had been rumours that flew from ear to ear everywhere on this side of the world. Duskwood, even in its shadowy isolation, had been no exception. She remembered hearing of Lady Proudmoore's pact with the new Horde and their shaman leader, the orc called Thrall as they battled against the Burning Legion. She had heard of the Night Elves, too, and their elusive re-entry into the world's view.

Just how accurate any of that information had been was as mysterious as the stories themselves. She supposed that maybe Othailos could tell her more if she were to ask. She wondered if she ever would ask…

She shivered again, this time from the wind, and her eyes once more drifted out to the silvery horizon once again. She tried to keep her thoughts optimistic, she tried to think of all the exciting things she'd see and probably do, but no matter how she tried it was just impossible to shake off the fear. She'd spent the last eleven years deeply rooted in her ways, in her cycle of life. She hardly ever left the forests, hardly ever even went into town. There had been only three times in her entire life that she had left the shadows of Duskwood.

A thought struck her then, how must Othailos feel? He had spent eighty years as a nomad, eighty years of his set ways. His cycles, too, had been broken. She wondered if he was feeling as unnerved as she was at that moment. Perhaps, but perhaps not. After all, if he had been nomadic then he was used to traveling, and surely every trip could not be the same as the last one. He was probably more used to change, he might even think her a fool for being so afraid.

 _Are my feelings cowardly_ , she wondered. Perhaps.

Yes, perhaps she was just a fool. After all, she was twenty six years old and fretting over a trip that was so short an amount of time in the grand scheme of life. Her entire existence would last less than a blink once it was over, in Azeroth's grand eyes. This planet was old and had seen so much, she was just another mortal and someday her life would be over and no one would notice.

What a morbid thought that was, that no one would be affected by her death, but it was true. She had no family, no friends, not even acquaintances. She wondered if anyone would even find her body when she did perish or if her bones would remain in her little sanctuary of a home in Duskwood for all eternity.

A rueful smile escaped and made way to her lips. She was so set in her ways that she even imagined she would die in that little house. That she was sure of such a thing, of her lonely death in that place, was a testament to her isolation. Was it wrong that she was satisfied with that fate? Was it wrong that it seemed preferable to any other that the world might offer her?

She wondered how the next year would change her. She was like an undisturbed stone that had just been unearthed from its hollow beneath the ground. Fate and its elements were free to shape her in any way they saw fit.

Her musings were cut short as a loud bell sounded over the harbor three times and the line began to move. Beside her, Othailos slid his journal back into his backpack and cast her a glance and a reassuring smile that caught her off guard. Was her fear truly that obvious?

They moved through the line in a slow silence, and then they reached the gangplank. Aileen found that she was unable to move. This was it, after this next step her feet would not touch this continent's soil for twelve months. She tried and tried to repeat to her earlier thoughts to herself. It was _only_ twelve months, only _one_ year where she had lived twenty six. It would be nothing but a fraction of a blink in this world's existence and but a moment to her years from now. Still her feet could not move, her toes digging into the soles of her boots. But she had to move, the line behind her was growing impatient. Her mind and body were at war.

A warm hand fell on her left shoulder and broke the paralysis that had briefly overtaken her. "You'll be alright," She heard Othailos's deep voice in her ear. "All will be well in the end and I will not leave you to do this alone."

She gave the smallest of nods, it was all she could pull from herself as unexpected tears threatened. She was inwardly chastising herself for this. What was she fifteen all over again? She cursed her nostalgia and her tears as she managed to take that first, awful step and then the spell was broken.

She trudged her way onto the ship and did not dare glance back, some irrational part of her convinced that it would be easier not to look. Once on the ship, Othailos spoke for them both and then lead her below deck to their very small cabin that they'd been granted. As soon as he shut the door, she sat down on one of the beds bolted into the walls and wiped away those awful tears.

"Forgive me." She muttered, angry with herself. "I'm acting like a child."

Othailos sat down on the other bed across from her and shook his head. "You aren't, and you've nothing to apologize for. I remember when I first left my home. I left it knowing I might never come back. I had never left it before and then suddenly I had no choice but to leave. It stung worse than any wound to leave the place I loved. It took me years, but then I discovered the joy that being a nomad brought me…"

He looked away and she marveled at his words, at how well he understood. _This_ was the difference between them. He had compassion where her heart was cold, he was kind where she was callous, he had strength where she held only fear. He was _nice_ and she, well, she just wasn't. For all those that had ever met Aileen Hunter, nice would never be a word they'd use to describe her.

But that was not all, she marveled at the sadness in his voice, too. It was a reminder to her once more that she had not been the only one to suffer, that there were others on this world no matter how she shut herself away or clung to her shadows in the wilderness. There were other lives being lived, other pains being felt. She wondered why Othailos had to leave his home, wondered of his past. It was a strange thing, to actually be interested in another person's experiences after years of selfishness and isolation.

She could still feel where his hand had been on her shoulder, his giant palm and long fingers more than covering it entirely. So warm, so reassuring. It brought about another strange feeling. She had never sought out touch before, at least not since she was a young child. She never really felt the urge to touch or be touched. That moment of comfort he had given her sparked something inside her, some sort of _need_ she didn't know she required. She looked at him, at his giant form sitting across from her, their legs almost touching because of the narrowness of the small room.

"Thank you…" The words escaped her before she could stop them.

He looked back up at her now, only a trace of the previous sorrow remaining in his face. He smiled that reassuring smile once more.

Settling into the room was easy enough. There was hardly anywhere to put anything and Aileen was thankful that they would be receiving the bulk of their supplies in Theramore. For now all she could do was shove her backpack beneath the bed and hang her quiver and bow on the single hook beside the porthole window.

She cast a cursory glance out of the small, round window. All she could see was murky water and she wondered if they had even left yet. She certainly didn't feel any rocking as was described in the stories. As she settled in the rest of the way, she suddenly snapped. In a panic she stepped back quick. She needed to see this land one more time before they left. She needed to watch it disappear. She had been wrong, keeping it out of her sight wasn't going to help her. She _needed_ that last look back.

She rushed past Othailos and out of the room, nearly bumping into the many others who were settling in. She hurried out onto the deck and to her surprise she discovered that they were actually moving after all. Now that she was on deck she could feel it, too. Watching the small waves in the water with the knowledge that they were floating atop it made it easier to feel the slight bobbing of the ship. It was barely there, but she felt it.

They were not yet out of the bay and she could still see people on the docks, however small they now appeared, milling about. She watched the shore slowly become thinner and thinner as they drifted away, watched the waters darken and the waves grow. She fought sadness once more and when it finally became too much she closed her eyes for a moment and turned around. When she opened them again she was greeted with the great, vast, endlessness of the true ocean as they left the little bay behind.

The clouds began to clear and morning light filtered through the silvery grey of the sky and turn the water all sorts of colors as it reflected off it. A peachy color danced atop the lightest of sea-greens and a thick, ever darkening gray. It was mesmerising.

She suddenly found herself at the other side of the deck, holding onto the other railing now, the child in her reveling in the beauty and vast _beyond_ that was the open ocean. What the captains had written was true, it really did stretch on for eternity. She glanced over her shoulder at the mainland and wondered how it would feel once she couldn't see it anymore. The thought was more than a little frightening at the same time as being completely fascinating.

"Is this the first time you've seen the ocean?"

She jumped, head snapping to look to her left, eyes wide. Beside her stood a tanned man with a blonde ponytail, grinning at her from beneath his scruffy beard. "Didn't mean to scare you, miss. You just looked so entranced."

Aileen looked at him, still a little stunned, and was even more surprised when she realised he was only dressed in a pair of blue shorts. He leaned on the rail of the ship alongside her, much too close for her liking. She forced herself to nod as he seemed to lean ever closer, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

She swallowed down the wariness in her throat and attempted a smile, but it immediately faltered with his next words. "Your eyes match the sea on a stormy evening…"

They were probably meant to be nice, a compliment, and Aileen knew that most other women would be flattered, but she wasn't. As he said this, the small smile she'd tried to bring about vanished completely and she stood there awkwardly fidgeting and hating both herself and this man before her. She hated herself even more with those thoughts. It wasn't this man's fault she was so callous. That mage in Stormwind had been right, she _was_ cold. She tried to think of a way to say that she wasn't interested without sounding mean but just as she opened her mouth a loud voice called from behind them.

"Henders! No flirting with passengers! Get back to your job or I'll leave you in Theramore when we dock!"

The man, Henders, shot Aileen a grin and stood back from the railing. "Enjoy your journey." He said with a wink.

She retreated for the cabin as soon as he was gone and tried to shake the incident from her mind. It was hardly an incident, she told herself as she knocked on the door. He didn't do anything wrong, just complimented her eyes. She ought to feel happy about it, even. She couldn't remember anyone ever complimenting her before. He had even been right, her eyes _were_ a dark blue-grey.

From behind the door Othailos called for her to come in and she hurried inside, still scolding herself.

She headed for the bed and sat down, staring out the porthole to give herself something to do, and something else to think about. She wished she could go back to staring at the silvery sea but despite her inner arguments, she couldn't bring herself to go back out there.

Finally, after a good long stare at the slightly-less-murky waters outside the porthole, she was calm again and turned her gaze to Othailos. He was back with the book again, the leather bound journal from the docks and she was instantly jealous of him. She missed having a good book, whether it was one she was writing herself or one someone else had written. She had a small collection in Duskwood, a few books she'd found or traded for. They had been her salvation on sick days or storm-battered evenings. Desperately she longed for something to read, and then she remembered the packet of papers.

She had planned to wait until absolute boredom had befallen her to read them but with the confrontation earlier and her irrational mind, she saw no sense in agonizing over everything. With a sigh she reached beneath the bed and pulled her backpack forward.

She would just have to start now.


	4. Chapter 3

Hello everyone, so sorry for the long delay. Life has been a beast to conquer lately, forgive me. I'm equally sorry that this chapter is not nearly as interesting as you might hope for it to be, nor is it quite as long as my usual chapters, but I really wanted to get something out to you guys.

Your patience is appreciated.

In response to your review, Nessy, I'm honestly not quite sure if I'll have any chapters in Othailos's POV quite yet. This is, for the most part, going to be Aileen's story, but there is a chance I'll make some from his POV in the future. :)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing but my toys, just stomping all over Blizzard's sandbox.

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 _Page One:_

 _,_

 _The following pages detail a mission of the utmost importance to the people of the Alliance and the High Council of Stormwind. We aspire to have a better future, the best future, for the people of the Alliance and in order to achieve those goals we must take measures to insure a healthy and robust union with our newest allies to the west._

 _As a citizen of this grand kingdom, you have a duty to the Alliance to help in whatever way we require of you. In order to establish a relationship as formidable as we desire, we require the aid of our people in the task of unity. As our world grows, as do our connections and we, as a people, must make sure to forge strong relationships with our allies from all corners of Azeroth. While we have gained new ground and new allies with the end of Third War, we have also gained enemies both new and old as well as arising threats that cannot be ignored. It falls upon your shoulders to ensure that our federation reaches its full potential._

 _You have been selected from a chosen few to help us fulfill these aspirations as a member of an assimilation program set on the continent of Kalimdor. Your particular role in this has been designed with the intention of infiltrating Night Elven society through connecting with the citizens, focusing on rural areas._

 _Given your background and chosen vocation, you fit the requirements sought to fill such a position. Your lifestyle, your skills as a hunter, and your many years spent in Duskwood have assured that you will be well acclimated to the forests of Kalimdor in very little time. In addition to the physical traits needed for lengthy travel periods in such an environment, you share a lifestyle and mindset similar to those of rural Night Elven society. You should be accepted culturally with little difficulty and welcomed into their lives so that we may better understand their civilization in order to forge a stronger partnership, and for our people to be as welcome in their lands as they are in ours._

 _Understanding one another is the key to a good relationship. Communication, perspective, and mutual trust must be gained and upheld for our relationship to reach the level of understanding we require. In order to obtain these objectives, we will require official reports as well as study notes that must be sent back to Theramore monthly during your year long expedition in Kalimdor._

 _By the end of the twelve months mentioned above, we hope to have procured the necessary information and intelligence from yourself and the other agents to better our connection with our Night Elven allies._

 _As you travel from town to town, city to city, we seek to help bridge the racial gaps in our two societies and to ready both their people and ours for a union between us. Their exposure to you, as a Human, and your exposure to them will help both sides become accustomed to each other's presence._

 _This is a position of honor, one that should not be taken lightly. Your role in this is crucial in the future for both our peoples. Respect and responsibility are critical in this endeavor. Do this not for yourself, but for your people and strive to seek the fullest and most successful future for our world. Think of your people, of your homeland and loved ones, and think of the years to come. Do what is best for them and carry yourself with integrity in your veins for you are a pivotal piece in the design of this program._

* * *

 _I have no loved ones._ Aileen tossed the packet back into her bag for another time. That was enough for now. Infuriating as the papers' contents were, she had little desire to read anything more. She would save the rest for the proverbial rainy day. It had taken her very little time to read that first page, anyway.

The ship now swayed lightly on the waves and she could feel it from where she lay on her bed. She thought of going back outside to peer over the ship's rail once more, but her nervousness stopped her despite the rational part of her that knew she was being childish. She sighed, brushing dark hair back from her face, and stared up at the ceiling.

Othailos was still on his own bed writing in the journal and she envied the peaceful aura that seeped from him, wishing she could soak some of it up into her toiling mind. She envied his journaling too, longing to have something to pass the time. At home she had things to do on days when she wasn't to hunt or travel. Little chores set aside for stormy evenings or frigid mornings. Crafting more arrows, repairing clothes and gear, making patterns for a new cloak or a pair of gloves, carving a new wooden mug or bowl, brewing potions and poisons. But she had no such materials and no such need for the mundane and purposely time consuming little tasks she set aside for herself.

There wasn't even a book to read and there were none to be seen in the small cabin she and her guide shared. Perhaps there were some to be found elsewhere? But did she dare ask to borrow one? Maybe Othailos had one in his pack, something he'd be willing to share?

Aileen let her eyes wander to his resting form, perched on his bed in a way that was startlingly graceful for someone so giant. Still he was writing, pen scribbling away. His long brows were furrowed in focus, eyes narrowed. Determined was the best way to describe his expression, absorbed in his task. She sighed once more, eyes finding the ceiling again. It would be a shame to break such concentration.

The hours passed and she let her mind wander to all manner of things. Her home, the orphanage, the peculiar necklace that the orphan matron wore that had always caught her eye as a child, the elf on the road, the troll in the book, the Third War, Kalimdor, the elven kingdom of Quel'thalas, the fall of Lordaeron…

The list went on.

And when she had finally exhausted all her boredom-staving thoughts, she caught herself humming a tune and opted to braid her hair to pass the time. As she did, she marveled at the feeling of it in her fingers, dry from lack of care, coarse and wavy as it had always been, dark as the shadows of Duskwood. It brought about the thoughts that had plagued her for decades. Who was she really? Who had given her such dark hair and tanned skin, eyes the color of stormy seas? Was it her mother or her father? Or was she a perfect mixture of the two of them? Whoever they were…

She shook her head. This wasn't a favorable direction of thought. Less and less had she questioned such things as the years passed and she grew older, but each time they inhabited her head, she wondered all the more.

She left the third braid unfinished and looked up to see that Othailos had abandoned the book in favor of casually watching her. She stopped, startled by his gaze, and froze.

"Forgive me for staring," He pleaded, "It is just that your hair is so different from my own. I have seen very few people that have hair that like yours, hair that ripples like the surface of a river or that is as dark as volcanic stones… It is so unique, exotic even."

Aileen blushed from his beneath his musings, having never been compared to such things before. She had never considered herself unique before, certainly not exotic. She was Human. She had tan skin and grey eyes and black hair. She would live less than one hundred years. She was plain. How could this man, who had spent her life three times over as a nomad, who had hair the like snow and eyes like stars, who stood at well over seven feet tall, consider her unique?

She sat, the blush spreading, unsure of how to reply to such an observation of herself. Was this a good thing? Did he find such features to be attractive? And the most startling and confusing question of all... Why did she care?

Never had the opinions of others bothered her before yesterday. She was uncaring, as cold as that mage-woman had claimed, she had never had a lover and hadn't had a single friend since childhood. Why did she care what this man thought of her? Why did she wonder? Why did some strangled part of her long to be found attractive? These things had never seemed to matter before, not since she was fifteen, not since she left Darkshire.

"If anyone is unique, it is you…" She finally said, cringing when she realised how rude that might have sounded. "I-It is just that I've never seen someone so tall before, or with hair so pale and blue skin… Not that there's anything wrong about that!"

Oh… Why did I have to open my mouth? What is wrong with me?!

To her immense relief, Othailos only laughed. "I suppose you are right," He said, still chuckling. "But think of things from my perspective. Compared to the women I've known in my life, you are vastly different from them in appearance. Your people as a whole are fascinating to look at. Especially those with golden hair, though I must say that that color only serves to remind me of the foolish High Elves who dwell in their shattered kingdom. A most distasteful thing to be associated with…"

She blinked at him, shocked at the vehement displeasure in which he spoke of the High Elves. She knew that they had their differences yet she knew so little of what those differences were. The inquisitive child in her longed to know more, but she was still reeling from embarrassment at her own words. Once more she was eternally thankful that this man could counter her awkwardness.

"Well, I suppose you are right, too." She murmured.

They fell back into a surprisingly easy silence and Aileen felt herself eventually calm. She idly twisted at her hair once more, no longer quite so embarrassed even though she could still catch Othailos glancing at her every so often.

Not that she wasn't equally as guilty of looking at him. She just couldn't help herself. Just as he found her fascinating, she found him just as worthy of her interest. At least it gave her something to think about in the hours with nothing else to do.

She startled sometime later to the sound of their door closing and she sat up, realising that she'd drifted off. She glanced to the window, expecting it to show the sky, only to be greeted with murky waters that betrayed little of what time it might be. She debated with herself as to whether or not she should leave the room, ultimately pulling the cold mask she'd always worn back over herself and walking from the room with purpose, bow and quiver across her back. She schooled her breathing and took gliding strides, trying to imagine that the floorboards were the forest floor beneath her boots and that the darkened hallway beneath deck was a tunnel of trees.

Her ploy against her own mind surprisingly worked as she passed the people seated in something of a common area, telling herself that they were the people of Darkshire, just as inconsequential as they had always been, and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. She squinted heavily beneath its rays and pulled the hood of her cloak up to guard against both it and the wind. Instantly she spotted Othailos standing at the rail just as she had been that morning and found that her feet were already carrying her to him.

"Hello," She greeted as impassively as she could manage as his earlier words wove through her head. She shoed them away, determined to regain the cold confidence and self-imposed shadowy solitude that she'd always had.

He looked down, nodding his own greeting, and she noticed that he too was squinting in the brightness that had overtaken them from the clear skies. "Goodness," He said after a moment, "How can any of you see in such light?" She almost chuckled at how frustrated her sounded.

Aileen shook her head. "I do not know," She replied. "Duskwood was a forest of darkness. The skies were dark even on a day without clouds and I had grown accustomed to it in my time there. This is all as knew to me as it is to you, if not even moreso given your experience and years spent traveling."

"It is good to know that someone else understands my pains in this place," He said, "Although your skin tone suggests that you will fare better than I in the long run."

"Oh? What do you mean?" She looked to him for clarification.

"Your skin is tanned despite having lived in such a shadowy place. In my lifetime I have spent very few days in the sun. Not only does it impair my vision, but it also burns my flesh." He pointed to the already darkening patches of indigo along the silvery-blue skin of his forearms. "I would wear a cloak to counter the sunburn but I found the cabin quite stuffy and warm, I need time to breathe." He shrugged, "I suppose this is the price to pay."

In the light of the sun Aileen inspected him more closely. With the sun on his skin she could see that he was indeed much lighter than he'd first appeared to be at the tavern. And as the light ran over him she could see freckles spattered over his face and body. She allowed herself a small smile. They were, despite that they meant he'd suffered in the sun, cute.

She blinked at her own thoughts. Cute? That was a word she'd hadn't associated with anything in quite a long time. The frustration with herself returned as she shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

It's just these last few days, she told herself, that's all, nothing more. Everything's just getting to you.

But the longer she stood next to Othailos, the more she had to force herself to stare out at the sea in order to avoid staring at him and the more she had to scold her brain for finding him cute, of all things.

She sighed. This was going to be a long trip.


	5. Chapter 4

Hello everyone. I'm really sorry for my long absence. Life has been hard in the past couple of months. I got into a car accident that injured me both physically and emotionally and I've only recently fully recovered from my wounds. In addition to this, I am preparing to move to a different country sometime next month and I have grown busy with packing and planning, etc.

I fully appreciate your patience, please enjoy chapter four.

Disclaimer: I don't own WoW.

* * *

Chapter Four

A deep rumbling startled Aileen from her sleep. She sat up in confusion and slight fear in the unfamiliar darkness. The whole room suddenly rocked and as she steadied herself she remembered, then, where she was. The boat, yes, and there across the narrow room lay Othailos. He too was awake, the silver glow of his eyes giving him away.

She blinked at him through the darkness. "Storm," He said, his voice gruff with disuse. The room pitched again, nearly toppling her from bed. "Get used to it, there will be more to come as we draw nearer to the Maelstrom. I had forgotten the tempestuous state of Azeroth's seas."

"The Maelstrom…." She had only ever read brief accounts of it through the sailors and captains in the books she'd so loved as a child. It was a vortex that ceaselessly spun and raged in the center of Azeroth's Great Sea, a giant storm that offered tides that were both hindering and helpful, if you played your cards right and sailed with its tide, but woe to the sailor who ventured too close. She had never imagined that such a thing might actually be out there… It had only ever existed in stories to her, far away in the open ocean, a place not meant for her.

"I'd only ever heard of it in the books and journals of sea captains." She murmured, clearing the sleepiness from her throat when her voice caught. "Is it truly as big as they claim?"

Othailos sat up now and she could faintly see him stretch in the dark and then settle against the wall. "Most likely bigger," He said, only half joking. "It is dark scar on this world. The whirlpool's center alone is said to be as big as the city of Darnassus, so say those who have witnessed and survived the Sundering. Its currents reach far, as does its storm. It draws other storms into, the sailors say the magic and violence of the vortex is great enough to do so. It influences the very tides themselves so I see no reason to doubt their claims." He yawned.

"Magic?" Aileen questioned. "I thought it was just a storm, a large and powerful one surely, but a magical one- no."

"Indeed, its cause was magic and destruction, and so that is what it echoes even after ten thousand years! One wonders if we'll ever be free from the aftermath of those terrible times."

There was brief silence between them and the room rocked once more, thankfully less violently than before.

"It was caused by magic…" She mused. Just how much of the world's history did she truly know? And how much of what she'd read and learned was inaccurate and unfinished? As a girl she'd spent most of her free time learning as much as she could from the few books that she could acquire and the lessons she was taught. But she had grown up in Darkshire, not Stormwind. There were no scholars and few adventurers, there was hardly even a schoolhouse in that small, dark town. The tavern, city hall, and the orphanage had more books than all of its residents combined, she was sure.

Again she felt ignorant before this man. He had decades of experience and knowledge over her. And with the life of a nomad, who knew how many places he'd gone and how many people he'd talked to, learned from. The child in her reached out to him to be her teacher but the shame and nervous paranoia of her grown Self prevented her from branching out.

But she'd need to eventually, she knew this. She was going to be spending a year in a completely unfamiliar place with new animals, places, and people. She would need his knowledge and guidance for, after all, was he not her guide?

She steeled herself, cheeks growing rosy in the darkness that she hoped could hide her embarrassment, and looked up at her companion across from her. Her eyes had grown more accustomed to the dark and she could now see the outline of him against the wall, the light of his eyes catching on his skin, illuminating his bare shoulders only slightly. She blushed even harder at the sight, however little of him she could see, and swallowed as she remembered her earlier turmoil over his comments on her hair. She shook her head, sighed, and recalled the task at hand.

"Othailos…" Was this the first time she'd ever said his name? It felt strange against her tongue, as foreign as he was, and yet somehow familiar. "I know nothing of Kalimdor and little of the world. I've spent all my life in Duskwood, seeing little else besides dark trees and shadowy forests. There is little in the way of education in Darkshire. People are focused on surviving in a place so harsh, books and histories go undervalued by many. I need your help for this journey, your knowledge and wisdom. If I am to complete this assignment successfully and help to unite our races, then I must know your people's history, your traditions and customs. I need you as the guide you are."

She thought she could see him smile in the dark. "As the guide I am," He softly jested, "I would be honored to be your _Shan'do_ in the ways of the Kaldorei."

"...Shan...do?" She questioned.

He laughed quietly. "I suppose you can count this as your first lesson. Shan'do mean 'honored teacher.' You are my Thero'shan, my honored student."

She smiled into the darkness. "Your honored student…" She whispered the words to herself, testing them out against her tongue. "I just realized that I'm going to have to learn your language if I'm to do this and I don't even know what it's called."

"The language of the Kaldorei is Darnassian, and you are right, you will need to learn if you're to make it in Kalimdor. But worry not, Aileen, I will teach you and translate where you lack the words."

"Thank you… Shan'do." She smiled again but rubbed her eyes in nervousness. The task ahead of her was massive, as was all she'd yet to learn. There was just so much ahead of her now, so much to do and so little time to do it in. Would this week on the boat be enough to even get her started. She was hardly familiar with the mannerisms of her own race, having spent so long alone. Not only that but it was almost disconcerting to actually care about the opinions of others now, let alone those of people she'd yet to meet. Her long sigh turned into a yawn and she settled back down into the blankets of her bed.

"You're welcome," She heard the elf whisper as he, too, shifted back into his bed. "Goodnight, Thero'shan."

"...Goodnight…"

The room was nearly still when Aileen awoke the next morning, no longer rolling with each wave but just gently rocking ever so slightly. Dim light filtered in through the porthole window and the sea beyond it. Aileen sat up and undid the loose braids from yesterday.

Othailos was still asleep, curled up on the other bed. It was, like most human-made things, much too small for him and even curled up as he was, his bare feet stuck off the white hair spilled over the edge of the bed like a ghostly curtain, it reminded her of the huge dead willow that grew near the river in Duskwood. Its long leaves had lost their color and turned silver, hanging limp and still against the tree's black bark.

One lengthy, white eyebrow twitched and broke her revelry. It suddenly struck her, the intimacy of this moment. Here she was watching a man hardly knew as he slept. She felt almost guilty despite the fact that she wasn't really doing anything wrong. As she struggled to tear her eyes away she began to realise just how starved for familiarity and company she really was…

It was, in a way, heartbreaking. Yet the tears that normally accompanied the word 'heartbreak' never came simply because she was too unfamiliar with intimacy and comfort to truly understand what she'd always been missing. That in itself could be considered heartbreaking, she supposed, yet still she could not quite grasp the full reality of her empty life. But she was beginning to scrape the surface.

He shifted and she nearly jumped out her skin, looking quickly away from his giant, sleeping form. He only rolled over, the blanket falling off of him and onto the floor. She glanced between him and the wool cloth that was hardly big enough for him before rising from bed as quietly as she could manage and pulling it back over the lower half of his body. Her hand brushed against his stomach and she froze. His skin felt like fire against the backs of her knuckles and she wondered, nervously, if he would wake. Instead his ear twitched and he let out a sigh as she retreated from his bed and pulled on her boots.

She needed some fresh air.

Outside the skies were grey and the sea was even more silver than the previous day. She peered at the water from the railing as she'd done before. The waves were less choppy than she'd expected for the morning after a large storm. She remembered the words of the sailors as they recalled the fickle nature of the sky and the sea. As her eyes scanned the horizon and she saw only overcast skies all around them, she thought might be starting to understand as she saw no threatening thunderheads.

She ate alone, sitting on the floor of the common room floor as the families began to filter into the room for their own breakfasts. She's tried to pull a chair away from one of the dining tables only to find that it had been bolted to the floor. Shyness kept her from sitting at one of the smaller tables and though the floor was rather dirty and the corner was dark, she was content with her spot.

She munched on the remainder of the bread from last night's dinner. They'd bought a couple of loaves from one of the vendors along with a bag of apples, a few pouches of spices, and a large hunk of dried venison jerky. She'd been tempted to buy some tea as well but with no kettle, in sight for hot water she decided against it.

She remained where she was even after she was finished, unsure of what to do with her time. She was reluctant to go back to the cramped cabin, not wanting to further the encroaching claustrophobia that had been building from being on the ship, unable to roam the forests as she usually did. She feared she would grow too restless too soon if she spent all her time there. There were always the remaining pages of the packet to be read as well but she loathed the thought of reading another page of flowery garbage.

She'd do it eventually…

For a while she idly watched the other passengers go about their lives. The merchants were gathered around the largest of the tables, chatting and eating. She watched a chubbier man spill coffee on himself and curse so loudly that the woman at the next table over hurriedly covered her daughter's ears. She stifled a laugh behind her hand. After a while she found herself watching the children of the families gather together to play and was reminded of her own childhood days.

Aileen envied these children who played so easily together. She'd had few friends during her life at the orphanage and none since leaving. Still, despite her self-imposed isolation, she could remember the names and faces of the two girls and two boys with whom she'd played in her early days.

The first had been a girl named Cara, who had been brought to the orphanage when she was two. She had been tiny, even for a toddler, thin and gaunt faced from lack of food. She shivered at the slightest breeze and existed in heavy coats for her first few months there.

Aileen had been three when Cara first appeared. The girl hardly spoke a word- at least in Common. She did, however, occasionally attempt to speak in a guttural language that wasn't the least bit familiar to Aileen, or really anyone else. Because of her thinness and inability to speak normally, she was something of an outcast. Aileen still remembered their first encounter, a rather simple moment, when the two of them had reached for the same picturebook.

The second girl Aileen had ever come to befriend was first friends with Cara, who had eventually become friends with almost everyone after a year or so of being there. After her speech improved she never really stopped talking. She was curious toward everything, sometimes to the point that it resulted in trouble. She'd had no fear of anyone or anything, except maybe ghouls, and was tremendously good at connecting with others.

Looking back at this now, Aileen realised that it was really no surprise that she'd befriended Anastina because of Cara. Anastina had always been one of those faces that blended into the background. She was quiet, normal, sweet but average. She was fair skinned and brown haired and liked to wear a yellow ribbon around her wrist for reasons that Aileen still did not know. She did not remember exactly when their friendship started, the other girl had hung around Cara and Aileen had been Cara's first friend, therefore uniting the three of them.

They spent most of their time in the yard together, sitting against the outside wall of the orphanage, braiding together long grasses and making jewelry from tiny silver stones that littered the ground. Cara would relay everything she learned to her two closest companions, from stories told by the matron to armor repair techniques that she'd pestered out of the local tradesmen. Of all the children in Darkshire's orphanage, Cara was the one Aileen thought would have become an adventurer.

But then one day a woman appeared on the orphanage's doorstep asking for Cara. She claimed to be her aunt, and after rigorous questioning from the matrons, her claim was deemed true. Within only a couple of hours Cara disappeared from the orphanage forever, her few things all packed. As she'd stood at the door beside the woman who was her supposed aunt, eight years old now, Cara was silent. On her face had been a look of apprehension, the only time ever that Aileen had seen such an expression on her.

After her departure they never saw or heard from her again. No visits, no letters, nothing. Anastina had taken the loss of the other girl particularly hard. The orphanage as a whole, without Cara's presence, had dimmed, but Anastina grieved the absence of her friend as though she'd died. But in a world where your friends were your only family, losing Cara had been like losing a sister to Anastina.

Aileen and Anastina had drifted apart after Cara was gone. Without her, they had little in common even after being on friendly terms for almost five years. Time passed and as they grew, Anastina drifted toward the other girls and Aileen grew restless. She threw herself into books and writing in her journal, dreamed up adventures and stories that would have made Cara proud. She supposed that had been her own way of grieving.

Eventually she found that playing outside with the boys in the yard was much more favorable than a lesson in singing or practicing different ways of tying up your hair. In the orphanage, many of the girls longed for normality in their lives. They dreamed of marrying a good man and raising children to have the lives they'd been denied. They wanted to be mothers and wives, to have a home. While Aileen now understood this, when she was nine years old she did not play with straw dolls and had no desire to chase after boys except for in a game of tag. As she grew, she left the world of girls behind, becoming something of an anomaly to the boys with whom she'd played simply because she was girl who was not afraid of the mud, who prefered rain to being indoors, who climbed the fence in the yard to sneak off into the forest.

When she was eleven she gained new friends. While she played daily with the boys of the orphanage, she had not yet truly befriended any of them. They were distant to her because of her gender, despite the fact that her knees were always scraped and her feet always black with dirt. They closed themselves off to her.

One day in summer Aileen snuck off into the forests to climb trees and chase birds. This time she did not go her usual way, following the deer trails as she always had before. She had heard voices in the forest, unfamiliar to her and had snuck away from her paths to spy two boys practicing archery with a homemade target. Interest and fascination had overridden her usual caution. She'd left the shadows for a rare moment in her life to ask if she could give it a try, surprising both the boys with her sudden appearance.

This had been the moment where she met Colyn, who was her age, and his older brother Destan, who was thirteen. Reluctantly they agreed to let her take a shot and she did surprisingly well. After this she snuck away from the yard almost daily to train with the two boys. As the weeks passed, they all grew to be remarkably talented, eventually testing out their skills on smaller prey. They practiced on squirrels and birds at first, afterwards taking their kills to the only leatherworker in town. They'd trade them in for coin and save up for better bows, new arrows.

Those two boys had been her introduction into the life of a huntress. In a way she had them to thank for everything she'd gained after she left the orphanage at fifteen. They had been better friends to her than Cara or Anastina, too. Closer, more connected, she'd even had feelings for Destan…

…It was a shame that it all ended how it did.

"Aileen, there you are." Othailos stood before her now as she shook her head and blinked away old memories from behind her eyes. She hadn't even noticed him approach, she'd been so absorbed in her thoughts. She'd always been a daydreamer, but never had she been so lost in herself than she was lately. She blamed all that was happening around her, all that had been forcing her to reevaluate her existence.

"Good morning," He said and sat beside her on the floor, unwrapping his own piece of bread. "I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting."

"Waiting?" Aileen asked, watching him pull the bread apart just as she had done. "You've not kept me waiting."

He smiled at her, as he often seemed to do, and she found herself carefully testing out a smile in return. He was always so amiable and even-tempered. She wondered if it was just the experience he had beneath his belt that allowed him to seem so put together or if it was truly a part of him. For all their similarities in craft and chosen paths, they were at the same time vastly different. Othailos was very much what Aileen wished she could be. Perhaps, if she was lucky, his ways would rub off on her in the coming year.

"Good," He replied, finishing off the bread. "I overslept. I was worried that you thought I didn't take our talk last night seriously. I promise that I fully intend to be the guide you deserve."

She chuckled and it felt good to laugh so freely. "You have nothing to worry about. If anything, it is you who should be worried about my incompetence. I am not the most reliable woman and hardly experienced compared to the likes of you."

"Me?" He echoed her laughter with his own. "I would not be so sure… While I may seem practiced, I'm still but a youngling in my people's eyes. Only just over two hundred years old where the masters I grew up with have been alive for thousands."

She gawked at him, unable to help it. "You've been alive for over two hundred years?" She blinked, fully realising what he'd just said. "Your masters have been alive for thousands?"

He nodded. "I forgot that Human lives are so much shorter in scale. It is hard to remember such a thing when I meet Humans like you. Your race is so bright, so awake and full of energy. Sometimes, in the presence of my own people, I feel as though we're all sleeping, waiting, watching the world around us turn yet forgetting that it does not wait for us… You and your kind, Aileen, you inspire me with your tenacity and ingenuity."

As always she blushed beneath the weight of his compliments, of the kind words he always seemed to have on hand. Today she was determined to make sure that she returned at least some of them even despite her red cheeks and wavering voice. "... It is funny that you say such a thing, Othailos. For in the short time I've known you, you have inspired me more than anyone I've ever known among my own kind. You are so kind where I am cold, gentle where I am callous… I can only hope that perhaps I can learn that tolerance for others through you."

He grasped her hand in his own and once more his skin felt like fire against her fingers. The warmth of his hand spread through her and she felt herself flush again, scarlet cheeks and wide eyes. He smiled down at her. "Aileen," He murmured, "I do not think you are nearly as callous or cold as you think you are. You should give yourself more credit. In doing so you might find that you might find what you're searching for- in yourself."

The wisdom of his words flooded her mind as she contemplated what he'd told her.

 _In myself..._


End file.
